The dark hours
by Lucida Bright
Summary: The immediate sequel to 'Hard as Iron'. Gene and Alex thaw out.


_The immediate sequel to _Hard as Iron_. Only for fluff-and-angst addicts. Many thanks to Louella for comments._

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Up in the flat, Alex took bottle and glasses through to the sitting room to find Gene still in his coat on the sofa, hunched over, elbows on knees. She poured him a large scotch and went to him, touching his shoulder briefly. 'Here.'

He looked up and took the drink from her with a grunt of thanks, waiting till she'd poured one for herself and they'd clinked glasses, before downing half the measure in one gulp. Alex sat quietly in the black leather chair.

He knocked back the rest of his whisky and stood up.

'You're not going?'

Gene looked at her, eyes huge in her pale face. He shook his head. 'Too hot.' He shrugged off his coat, and helped himself to more scotch, topping up her glass as well before sitting back down. He swallowed a mouthful of whisky. 'What're those things… tourist tat… things in a bubble of water, and you shake 'em…'

'Snow domes?'

'That's them.'

'What about them?'

Gene looked at her. 'What are you doing over there? Worried I'll bite your head off again?'

She shrugged, her eyes on the floor. 'Didn't want to crowd you.'

'Got used to being crowded in the car. It wasn't too bad.'

Alex looked up; what she read in his face made her come to sit beside him. 'Better?'

He put his arms round her, leaning his cheek against her hair, and felt her relax against him, her arm curling round his waist. 'Better,' he murmured.

It wasn't as quiet as it had been in the car: gas fire hissing, kitchen clock marking time, down in the street a police van decanting a bunch of noisy drunks. Alex could feel Gene's pulse, feel his ribs move with each breath, feel the heat where their bodies touched. Felt the rumble of his voice when he spoke.

'You asleep?'

'Mmmno.' She mumbled into his shoulder.

'I should let you go to bed. It's after three.'

She held him a little tighter. 'Not sleepy.'

Gene kissed her hair softly. He searched for his glass with one hand, and finding it empty, he let go of her and stood up to get the bottle. Refilled, he sat back down and gave Alex her drink, then draped his arm over her shoulders as he took another mouthful of whisky.

She turned to look at him. 'What was that about snow domes?'

He took another drink. 'That's how it's felt for the last six months. When you arrived, it felt like my world had been tipped upside down and shaken. Each time it all just about settled, you knocked me over again. Left me spinning, sometimes.' He reached into his jacket pocket for his fags, and lit up, dragging the smoke into his lungs as though it was pure oxygen. 'Tonight… you shook me so much I didn't know which way was up. Still don't.'

'Making you talk about your father.'

'Mmm.' He took another long drag of his cigarette. 'We couldn't have kids, me and Ruth. Told myself it was just as well. Risk of turning out like my dad. Stopped thinking about it twenty years ago. Till tonight.' There was a long pause while he smoked, his mind elsewhere. 'Churned everything up.'

'Gene, I'm so sorry.'

He took a last drag of his ciggie and stubbed it out. 'You weren't to know.'

'But I…' She was silenced by his fingers on her lips.

'Alex… _sshhh_. Let's have a bit of peace before the next argument, eh?' He swallowed more scotch.

'You're drinking fast.'

'Don't nag, Bolls.'

'I'm… You're welcome to whatever you want, but…'

'If you want me to talk, I need to be pissed. This isn't stuff I want to think about sober. Let alone say to anybody else.'

She leaned against him, touched his hand. 'Gene… you don't have to talk…'

'Need to get it off my chest now. Driving me mad. All the what-ifs and if-onlys. All the bloody mistakes… going round and round in my head.'

'And now the lid's off, you can't cram it all back in the box.' Alex's voice was soft, low. 'Why now?'

'Because you asked, I suppose. Because there's been no-one…' He stopped abruptly.

She held his wrist, cool fingers stroking gently. 'Tell me.'

He lit another fag and, slowly, began to talk. Disjointed memories of childhood and adolescence: his own angry family, the sanctuary of kind neighbours; finding focus for his anger in the boxing ring, and a secure framework in the discipline of National Service, then the police.

Alex sat motionless, listening, piecing the fragments into a picture of Gene Hunt she'd never tried to imagine. When he ran out of steam, she put a hand on his arm. 'God, Gene, but you're strong. Tough as hell to get through that...'

'Didn't have much option. Well. Could have gone the other way, I suppose. Might have retired five years ago to a fuck-off villa on the Costa, grown fat on other people's misery.' He paused long enough to swallow some scotch. 'Policing gave me a purpose in life; I had the missus at home, my old mum to worry about. A job I could lose myself in. But it got too easy. You live among scum, you get too close to it, you start to lose perspective. A bit of privilege for the likes of me – it felt good. Best seats at the boxing, VIP guest at the casino, director's box at the footie. The odd tenner for a flutter, the odd bottle of whisky. You get used to it, then it gets hard to do without. And you're lost. I'd tell myself that this was the way it worked; this was the best way to keep the city safe, by letting the villains keep each other too busy to bother decent people.'

He caught her eye, his face guarded. 'You're not surprised. No more than you expected, eh, Bolly?' His voice was hard.

'I'd heard some of it.'

'Oh, yeah? Who from?'

'Sam Tyler, originally. And people talk, especially about big characters. They don't come any bigger than you, Gene Hunt.' She smiled to soften the words.

He didn't smile back. 'That your idea of a joke, Bolls? Don't give up the day job.'

'You're not that man any more, Gene.'

'No? And how would you have come to that conclusion, DI Drake?'

'I've been working with you for six months, for starters. Not to mention countless bottles of wine at Luigi's. And Sam said…'

'DI Sam Tyler was a self-righteous, girly, non-smoking, smart arse, yoghurt-eating, moaning, skinny Old Trafford poof.' His tone didn't match his words, and the expression on his face told Alex the truth of it. Her hand on his arm brought him back. 'When he landed on us, he whinged about every bloody thing.' He chopped one hand into the other. 'By. The. Book. Taping interviews and obsessive filing and his fingertip searches… Picky pain in the arse. But if it weren't for him I'd be eight years into a life sentence for murder.' He glanced at her. 'Oh, so he didn't tell you that story.'

'I think I'd have remembered.'

'Sam wasn't scared of me. Wasn't scared of much at all. Stood up to me, called me on anything he didn't like, which was pretty much everything. He'd take a punch from me, and give it straight back. There's not many as'd try that. He was tougher than he looked, the scrawny sod. More meat on a butcher's pencil.' He paused, and laughed to himself.

'What?'

'I could be describing you, Bolly.'

'You've never punched me.'

'Haven't kissed you either, but that doesn't mean I haven't been tempted.'

Alex smiled, but Gene was staring into the past, seeing shadows.

'Did he tell you he'd been sent in undercover to get rid of me? He was supposed to hand me enough rope to hang myself so they could prove to the world they were modernising the police force, clearing out the dead wood.'

'But he couldn't betray you in the end, could he?'

Gene drew in a long breath. 'Seems not.'

'He trusted you. Followed his instincts. Broke the rules.'

'At least he could think for himself. Unlike the rest of my useless bloody team.'

'They're loyal. Think you're god.'

'Only as long as I show no weakness. They don't want to think I'm the same as any other bugger.' He sighed and sat forward, elbows on knees, gazing at the hot glow of the gas fire. 'I'm not made of flint, Bolls.'

She put her hand on his back. 'You can't show it, though, can you? Got to be the Gene Genie for them. The Manc Lion. Their very own hero.'

There was another silence.

Gene shifted. 'Did you have a hero, Alex? Someone who was everything you wanted to be?'

'When I was little, my father. I was Daddy's girl.'

'Was? Not any more?'

'No. My parents died when I was young. Only found out recently he had feet of clay.'

'Hurts, doesn't it, when they pull the rug out from under you, and you fall on your arse.'

'Yes, it bloody hurts. Makes you wonder if you can believe anything any more.' The bitterness burned in her voice. She shook her head and flicked him a smile. 'Who was your hero?'

'My guv'nor at GMP for twenty years. Harry Woolf. Taught me everything. Brave, shrewd, best sort of copper. Next best thing to god. Him and Malcolm Allison. Turned out he'd gone bad. Organising robberies across four divisions. Sam found out but I didn't believe him. Laughed in his face. But it was Harry who was laughing at me. He ended up killing a man, and he pulled a gun on me when I tried to arrest him. Bloody Mexican stand-off. Fucking nightmare. I couldn't pull the trigger and he knew it.' He dropped his head for a moment. 'He'd beaten me, Bolls.' He heaved a great sigh. 'If some no-mark DC hadn't turned up… I'll never forget it. The great Superintendent Harry Woolf, lying on the floor bleeding, my bullet in his leg and his head in a noose.'

'_Gene_…' Her murmur was barely audible.

'Everything I'd believed in, everything good I'd been taught... Lying in ruins. Took me a while to pick through the pieces.' He took a deep breath. 'Sam helped. Found I could talk to him.' He sank into his memories for a minute. 'He had an old head on his skinny shoulders. Nothing fazed him. He was a prissy pain in the arse over little things, but he was sound on the important stuff. If you ignored his atrocious lack of judgement in football.'

Alex broke into his thoughts. 'What was the story about a murder charge?'

'Click of the switch. Vision of the future.'

'What?'

'Boom. One second, all over. My life finished. One day I'm king of my little world, and the next I'm an outlaw being chased by my own oh-so-loyal team. "Got to bring you in, Guv." Didn't take long for Carling and the rest to turn their coats and write me off, the gormless twats.'

Alex waited for a moment before she prompted him. 'What had happened?'

'Terry Haslam. Boxing trainer. Found shot in his own sitting room. With my gun. With his blood on my shirt. It was me that found him. Woke up on his couch and there he was, one dead bastard. And I couldn't remember how I'd got there, couldn't remember anything. Knew I didn't do it, but I couldn't prove it. Scared the shit out of me. I'd never felt so alone. You've no idea, Bolls.'

'Oh, I have, Gene. I know exactly how it feels.' She took his hand in both of hers. 'Small. Cold. Like I'm standing in the dark on a distant planet. Just me, and the monsters in the smoke.'

Gene pulled her into his arms, rocked her gently. 'Yeah, that. What happened to you, Bolls?'

'I'll tell you later. Go on about Haslam.'

'I rang Sam. Knew he'd be fair, at least. But when push came to shove, when the others had decided I must have done it, Sam stood with me. Trusted me. Defied his orders and stuck his head in the noose with mine. Broke all the rules to prove me innocent. Saved my life, Bolls.'

'He found the killer.'

'Joint effort. That's the point. Neither of us would have done it alone.' Gene picked up his packet of fags, fishing out the last ciggie and lighting up.

'He was a good friend to you. Sam.'

'A good friend… Yes, you could say that. Still a prissy pain in the arse, mind.'

They sat quiet as Gene had his smoke, watching the grey plume spiral and drift away from him. Alex watched him, the way he held the cigarette in hands that belonged to a musician more than a fighter, the long sensitive fingers bringing the filter to his lips, his throat moving as he sucked the smoke into his lungs, eyes narrowing as the nicotine hit. She lay against the back of the sofa, content to wait.

Eventually he took a last drag, leant forward to stub the fag out in the ashtray, and exhaled. 'Funny thing – they didn't catch me for the death I was responsible for.'

He saw Alex's shocked expression, and nodded. 'Manslaughter, if not murder, Bolls. No question. Assisting a suicide.' He took a deep breath. 'Harry Woolf had cancer. Would have died soon, anyway. Maybe that's why he went off the rails. Who the fuck knows. Anyway, it was about a month after he was arrested. He was out on bail. He had no money, he was ill, and he had nowhere to go. They knew he wouldn't make it to trial. So he was staying with us. He'd told me what he wanted often enough. The wife went to stay with her parents one night, so that was our opportunity. Harry had enough bloody pills to kill a horse – he was rattling with them to try and keep the pain under control but they weren't really working. He'd got the quack to give him something stronger, and he'd got a full bottle of the things. I nipped out to the offy to get more whisky, and when I came back, the pill bottle was empty. He told me he didn't want me in the house when he swallowed them in case I tried to stop him, but I'd lay odds it was in case I was questioned later. Anyway, I sat with him on the couch and we shared the bottle and laughed ourselves hoarse with old stories. For a while, anyway.'

Gene stopped, scrubbed his hands over his face. 'I sat with him till he was cold, then called an ambulance. The last words he spoke… the last I understood… he said he was proud of me.' His voice shook. 'And he thanked me. After what I'd done to him, he thanked me, Bolls.'

She put her arms round him and hugged him tight, murmuring comfort. 'You gave him back his dignity, Gene. You risked everything so he could die in peace, in the arms of someone who loved him. It's more than most of us can hope for.'

She got up, wiping her eyes, fetched the almost-empty whisky bottle and tipped the last half-inch into his glass. He looked up with half a smile; she bent and kissed his forehead.

'What was that for?'

'Trusting me.'

He grunted.

'Nothing wrong with a bit of affection, is there?'

'No, Bolls. Nothing wrong with affection.' He sounded utterly weary.

She sat on the arm of the sofa and rubbed his shoulders. 'You're exhausted, Gene. You should go to bed. I'll sleep on the sofa – it's too short for you.'

'I'm all right. Bit pissed. I'll go home in a minute. Leave you in peace.'

'No rush. When you're ready.' She was massaging his neck, fingers stroking and pressing the tired muscles.

He put his glass on the table and stood up abruptly. 'Back in a minute.' He disappeared.

The gas fire had done its job, and Alex was warm at long last. She pulled off her boots and her jacket and padded across to the window, looking through the blind at the street below, the sodium lights turning the snow orange, the blue lamp lit at the station entrance. She heard Gene come back into the room but jumped when his arm rested on her shoulder and he peered across at Fenchurch East. 'Anyone doing any work, d'you reckon?'

'Seems quiet enough.'

'This weather's good for the crime figures. Getaway drivers can't get away. Cat burglars can't get a grip on the ice.' He took off his jacket and went back to the sofa, knocking back the last of the Scotch; he pulled his boots off and put his feet up, lying with his head on the sofa arm. 'This last year…' He tipped his head back and sucked in a chestful of air. 'Ruth. Sam. Leaving Manchester... It's been hard, Bolls.'

'I never thought how everything must have hit you. I'm sorry, Gene. I didn't exactly make things easier, did I?'

He pulled a face, considering. 'You did, actually. Bolshy tart, full of loopy ideas, brave as any bloke. Mad as a box of frogs. Distracted me. Stopped me thinking about… what I ran away from.'

'You didn't run away, Gene. You told me yourself – you moved on.'

'Moved on at the double. Maybe I thought I could leave myself behind too, if I scarpered fast enough.'

'Can't do that. I've tried too, believe me.'

'For the last six months you've given me a reason to come into work every morning, if only to see if that's the day I finally fire you. If you don't give me apoplexy first.'

She smiled. 'I won't fight you any more, Gene. Promise.'

'Don't make promises you can't keep, Bolls. Course you will. Before lunch tomorrow, probably. Just not all the time, eh? I'm not your enemy.'

Alex took a breath, but hesitated for a second before speaking, her voice not quite steady. 'I thought you were, for ages. Thought I had to fight you to stay alive.'

He held out a hand to her. She walked the few steps to the sofa and took his hand, sitting on the edge. His arm curled round her back and she allowed him to pull her down alongside him; he shifted on to his side and cradled her against him, her head on his arm. She closed her eyes, let his voice weave round her.

'Sometimes life forces you to the edge, Alex, and it's not a choice between turning back or falling, but between jumping or being pushed.' He stroked her hair. 'Sometimes it's not so easy, when the choice seems to be between your head and your heart. But if you find that what you've been told is mostly lies, and what you believe is mostly bollocks, you don't even know where you are, let alone where to go. You have to start with what you know.' He put a hand on her stomach, and the touch made her open her eyes and meet his gaze. 'Here. In your gut. You have to trust your instincts, Bolls, even if it means breaking your own rules and going against everything you've been taught.'

She put a hand on his, holding it against her body. 'Yes.' She couldn't look at him. 'Nothing certain. Nothing to hang on to. It's been like living in a constant earthquake.' She curled her fingers round his hand. 'Earlier, in the car, you made me feel as though nothing could hurt me, as long as I was with you.'

'Do my best, Bolls.' He kissed her hair, saw her smile.

'Just remembered – my first day here, Ray told me something.'

'What?'

'He said if I was smart, I'd learn that where the Guv is, is the right place to be.'

'For once in his life, Ray had a point. Look what happened when you disappeared off to the Cales' restaurant.' He pulled her close, held her tight. 'Daft bint.'

She tipped her head back so she could look at him. 'But you saved me again, Gene. You rescued me from Markham the first time I met you, and you kept me safe tonight.'

He let her go. His eyes glittered, his thoughts closed off from her behind the stone face. 'That's what you want, is it? Someone to look after you. A father figure.'

She stared into the past for an instant, before looking back at him. 'No, Gene.' She put a hand to his neck and began to stroke gently. 'What I want is my match. A man not a million miles from here.'

He didn't budge, but his eyes betrayed him, the pupils widening as his breathing changed. 'Plenty of 'em round here. Ray. Viv? Duffy. Luigi…'

Alex smiled and slid her arm round his chest, feeling his body react as her fingers touched his spine. 'Want me to spell it out?'

'Oh, yes.' His arm snaked around her waist; his eyes were inches from hers, the black depths surrounded by a corona of silvery green. 'Say it, Bolly.'

Alex blushed, but held his gaze. 'You, Gene Hunt. I want you. Only you, Gene.'

His hands pushed under her top, slid over her skin, pulled her against him. He bent his head and feathered his lips over her ear. 'No-one else would do?'

She touched her mouth to his neck. 'No-one else comes close, Mr Hunt.' She felt his breath hot on her skin as he kissed his way along her jaw.

'What do you want from me, Bolls?'

'Show me where to go, Gene.' She found his mouth, and the taste of him went straight to her head. He groaned as she opened to him, sweet, yielding…

'What if I take you over the edge, Alex?' He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes burning deep into hers, searching for the truth in her answer.

'As long as you come with me….'

'Yes. _Christ_, Alex, yes…'

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The phone broke Alex out of deep sleep; she scrabbled at the receiver and dropped it twice before getting it to her ear. 'Uhh…'

'You not well, DI Drake?' It was Ray Carling, her constant critic.

'Time?'

'Nine thirty. Happen to know where the Guv is this morning?'

'No… oh, shit.' As she spoke, Alex felt something move and heard a grunt, as reality coalesced around her.

'Something wrong?'

'Er, remembered I've got a… er, dentist's appointment. Be in later. Bye.' She gave Carling no time to respond before she hung up. Taking a deep breath, she turned over.

Lying next to her, sleeping like a child, was the missing DCI. She hesitated to wake him, since they'd not given in to sleep till the sky had begun to lighten. His body was naked beneath her duvet, and she let one hand wander over it, revisiting sites of special interest, as her lips wandered over his face, grazing on the blond stubble and nibbling gently along his jaw. When the phone rang again, Alex swore under her breath and snatched it up to stop the noise waking Gene. '_What?_' she hissed.

'DS Carling again.' He had his innocent voice on, which raised the hackles on Alex's neck. 'You sure you haven't seen the Guv? Only the Audi's outside the station, and there's no reply at his house. Chris went over there, like, cos we were worried.'

'You might have noticed the weather, Ray. We left Milford later than expected and conditions made it a slow drive home; we had a slight accident, and I dare say the Guv left the car here because it has to go to the garage. All I can tell you is that he dropped me off here about three a.m. He's probably catching up on some sleep.'

'I dare say. Ma'am.'

'What's the news on Chapman?'

'Oh, we've got him. Burnett was spot on. The scumbag was getting tooled up at Filly Foranarf's lock-up, so we got Chapman _and_ Filly plus a lot of shooters. Nice night's work.'

While the sergeant was speaking, a hand slid round Alex's body and cupped her breast, making her gasp.

'So do you want to sit in on the interviews, or should we wait for the Guv?'

'Sorry?' Gene's teeth were grazing her shoulder, and she lost concentration for a moment.

'The interviews?'

Gene's hand was drifting lower, and his lips were trailing kisses down her back. She was struggling to focus on Ray's voice. 'We'd better wait for the Guv to come…' She smothered a giggle as Gene bit her arse gently, and slid his hand between her legs. 'I've… ah… got to go. Someone knocking…' She dropped the phone on its cradle and squealed as Gene rolled her on to her back, grabbed her knee and opened her wide.

'The Guv'll come when he's good and ready,' he growled, nipping at the soft skin inside her thigh.

She moaned, weak with lust. 'Oh, you're good… and I'm ready…'

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In the CID office, Ray had his hand out. 'Come on, divvy up, you losers. He's definitely up there, so you might as well pay up now.' There was whingeing from the assembled defectives, but Ray was confident. 'Duffy's watching her front door; we'll catch him. Then we'll open the book as to how long it'll take 'em to fall out. You watch. She'll be long gone by Easter.'

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They lay tangled together, bodies tingling, hearts slowing gradually.

'Morning.' Alex brushed her fingers over Gene's lips and felt him smile.

'Morning, Bolls. What've you got for my breakfast?'

'Special K? Grapefruit? Yoghurt?'

'Christ alive. That's not going to keep my pecker up.'

She giggled at the disgust on his face. 'I wasn't expecting to cater for you this morning.' She nudged him. 'Anyway, don't I get a loving greeting, or a thank you, or something?'

He stroked her face. 'For what?' He kissed her lingeringly. 'You're late for work, Bolly, and you've made me late, and all.'

'You're welcome.' She kissed him back, and was gathered into his arms for a hug that squeezed the breath from her. He let her go, and she lay on her back looking up at him. She lifted a hand and traced a finger over his eyebrows and down his nose to the smiling mouth. 'Now I understand why Sam came back to you.'

Gene frowned. 'What?'

'You're a hell of a man, Gene Hunt.'

He frowned harder. 'He married a plonk, you know. He wasn't a poof.'

She laughed. 'I know. He said he felt alive here. With you.'

'Still sounds a bit Dorothy.'

'Which would make you the Scarecrow.' She ruffled his already ruffled hair with both hands.

'Do you bloody mind...' Growling, he bit her shoulder.

She giggled, and pushed him away half-heartedly. 'We've got to get up, or your blue-eyed boy will be over here to whip us in.'

'Sod 'im. Let him wait. Want to come to mine tonight?'

'Not a one-night stand, then?'

'One night?' He was outraged. 'After all those months of grief? You must be bloody joking.' He peered at her, eyes boring into her head. 'Is that all you want?'

She grinned at him. Kissed him. 'You must be bloody joking.'

'Glad to hear it. Because after you insisting on me chauffering you home last night, against all good sense, then trying to give us both frostbite, _then_ crushing me half to death, and _now_, to add insult to injury, starving me to skin and bone, I will expect my money's worth from you, Mata Hari.' With every breath, he had been dropping kisses on her body, from shoulder to belly button. 'Not to mention all…'

'Oi, you.' Alex tugged him back up so she could silence him. I thought we weren't going to fight any more.'

'Not fight? That's the whole point of you, Bolly. If I didn't like wrestling with you I could have any number of nice agreeable birds who lived to please me.'

That made her laugh as she shoved him out of bed.

An hour later, after a rather long shower, they headed downstairs. 'What's our story? I'm sure Ray knows you're here.'

'I'll settle his hash. Just follow my lead, Bolls.' He stopped and turned on the stairs, so she cannoned into him. He took advantage of the sudden contact and kissed her long and slow before cupping her face in his hands and gazing deep into her eyes. 'Not alone any more. You and me, Alex. Together. Unbreakable.'


End file.
